


Spy vs Rib-Eye

by freudensteins_monster



Series: Spies Like Us [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: All mistakes are my own, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blind Date, F/M, First Dates, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Mistaken Identity, Modern Bucky Barnes, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Rated M for language, SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudensteins_monster/pseuds/freudensteins_monster
Summary: When Darcy's dating life begins to look increasingly grim, Natasha decides to set her up with an old friend who's recently had to transfer back stateside after his cover was blown on his last job.Darcy has to thank Natasha because not only is Bucky Barnes stupidly attractive and fun to hang out with, but it's just so much easier to date someone who understands the top secret nature of spy life. Because Bucky is a spy... right?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis
Series: Spies Like Us [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180430
Comments: 28
Kudos: 128





	Spy vs Rib-Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr post: http://brittbax.tumblr.com/post/177571723174/terapsina-onion-souls-tilthat-til-there
> 
> Not a sequel or direct follow up to my 2017 fic Spy vs Poli-Sci (this one's been a WIP for 3 years now!), so you don't have to read that one first. They're just grouped together because they're pretty much the same mistaken identity idea, but this time it's Darcy who's the spy.

Darcy never set out to be a spy. Technically she still wasn’t one, but being operational support for Natasha Romanoff was pretty damn close. Mostly it meant that she got stuck behind a few computer monitors watching Natasha’s back while the redhead did all the leg work.

Today Darcy was tucked away in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of Prague while Natasha infiltrated the offices of a mid-level government official who was suspected of having some seriously shady business associates. She hacked traffic and security cameras in the area so that her operative could make her approach from the street behind the office building unseen.

“All clear?” asked the voice in her ear.

“Yup. Good to go. One security guard at the front desk, two more doing a walk around on the fourth floor. I’ve got every camera on your side of the building switched to a loop, and deactivating the alarm on the back door in three, two, one.”

“That was fast,” Natasha replied as her dark silhouette slipped through the entry point.

“Yeah, someone should really talk to them about updating their electronic security. I didn’t even have to break out my new program on this one.”

“Let’s hope the rest of the job’s this easy.” Natasha’s voice was barely louder than a whisper but Darcy always ensured her operatives had the best gear, including comms so sensitive they could pick up a fly buzzing in the next room.

Darcy watched Natasha make her way through the first floor to the eastern stairwell, deactivating the alarm before she reached for the door.

“Fifth floor, right?” she asked as she made her way up, finding the perfect balance between haste and silence.

“Yes, why are you asking?” Darcy queried, suddenly concerned. “You studied the floor plan for like ten minutes. That generally means you know it like the back of your hand.”

“Just making conversation,” she huffed.

“You hate making conversation. You hate back seat mission drivers.”

“Maybe I just missed your dulcet tones while I was on vacation.”

“You were on forced medical leave,” Darcy reminded her sharply. “You got a bullet to the stomach. Something which would never have happened if I had been there watching your back.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha grumbled. They’d had this argument twice already. “Why is it that whenever Clint calls in a favour I wind up getting shot at? Do you remember Bucharest?”

“God, that was such a mess. At least tell me he owes you another five favours now.”

“Five favours and a new machine gun.”

“Nice. Guards have moved down to the third floor via the western stairwell so you are all clear.”

A noise in the hallway outside the safe room had Darcy instinctively reaching for her Glock and pointing it at the door.

“What is it?” Natasha demanded, freezing just outside the stairwell when Darcy’s breathing changed.

“Not sure, couple arguing…” Darcy mused as she pulled up the feed from the hallway with her free hand. It did appear to be just a local couple, arguing about something. Infidelity most likely, judging by all the aggressive pointing going on. They stepped into the elevator and took their argument elsewhere. “Not a threat,” Darcy concluded with a soft sigh but kept her gun close. “That girl is a terrible liar though, and definitely cheating on her boyfriend.”

“Speaking of boyfriends…” Natasha purred as she picked the lock on the target's office door. “How’s your love life?”

“Ugh.”

“That bad?”

“My mother signed me up for speed dating while you were on R and R. I went. Against my better judgement. The top button on my cute yellow sundress popped off on the train ride over so I did not get any eye contact all night.”

“Bet you got a lot of phone numbers though,” she chuckled.

“Mmm,” Darcy grimaced. “And Ian drunk dialled me last week. Begging me to take him back. Actually, he was begging “Makayla-baby” to take him back. I recorded it for blackmail purposes and then blocked his new number.”

“Alaska was not far enough. I should have had that cheating asshole reassigned to the moon,” Natasha muttered as she plugged Darcy’s thumb drive into the target’s computer and let it do its thing while she did a sweep of the office.

“Nah, he would have liked that; he’s a total space nut. My program will be finished running in about two minutes,” she advised.

“Found his safe.”

“You got it covered?”

“Have I got it covered,” she snorted derisively.

“Hey, I don’t know your proficiency with every make and model ever built. Maybe there’s a safe out there that the great and powerful Black Widow can’t crack.”

“There isn’t,” she smiled as the locking mechanism clunked and the safe door swung open. “So no plans to dive back into the dating pool anytime soon?” she asked innocently as she retrieved a spy-sized scanner from her belt and started uploading pages from a coded ledger.

“I don’t know,” Darcy whined. “Dating civilians is hard. In the last two years I haven’t gotten to a third date without a guy getting all suspicious and weird about my refusal to talk about work, and wanting to know why my phone’s all super-encrypted. I thought dating in-house would be easier, you know. I wouldn’t have to lie about where I worked or why I took so many ‘business trips’...”

“But we all know how that turned out,” Natasha quipped as she closed the safe and retrieved Darcy’s thumb drive.

“With him freezing his butt off in Alaska,” Darcy nodded, her eyes flicking over the security camera feeds as Natasha headed for the emergency exit. “The two guards have now returned to the security desk whilst the third has gone to the men’s room closest to your stairwell. Wait for the all clear before exiting.”

“Will do. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”

“Roger that.”

“So,” Natasha hummed as she plonked herself down opposite Darcy in a bar a block from the safe house. “I have this friend…”

“Oh no,” Darcy groaned into her beer. “So much for me being immune to your matchmaking.”

“You have always been very proactive when it comes to dating, I haven’t felt the need to interfere before now.”

“But now?”

“You’re becoming jaded and I feel I need to step in before you upgrade to straight up ‘bitter’,” she smirked, helping herself to a sip of Darcy’s beer before ordering her own drink.

“So, this friend,” Darcy sighed. “Is he a company man?”

Natasha shook her head (and Darcy became a little jealous of the way the light reflected off her ridiculously red hair). “Private sector. He was stationed in Eastern Europe for a bit but his cover got blown so he put in a transfer request to come back stateside. He would have preferred to move back home to New York, but he can’t show his face there for a few more years yet, so I may have gently nudged him towards DC. He travels almost three weeks out of every month, so he’ll be understanding about the demands of your job – and the need for remaining tight-lipped about it,” she added, pausing to sip her beer. “The constant travelling might become an issue somewhere down the line should you two decide you want something serious, but for right now? He’s single, he’s attractive, new to town, and isn’t adverse to meeting new people for something casual. What do you say? Can I give him your number?” 

Natasha had said his name was James, but within three texts he’d corrected her; his name was Bucky, thank you very much. Only Natasha and his mother called him James. His bosses had allowed him a few weeks to get settled in DC before he was sent off on his next job so they quickly made plans to have dinner while they could, and so that Friday night found Darcy standing in front of her hallway mirror fluffing her hair.

“I’m so  _ glad _ we got a chance to do this… I’m so  _ happy  _ we could do this…” she repeated back to her reflection.

She would argue that she wasn’t nervous about going on a blind date… just worried that it would be a disaster and she would have to tell Natasha that her friend was a jerk, which would ruin the most perfect work relationship she’d ever had.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she sighed.

She was saved from further flagellation by a knock at the door. She gave herself a final once over. Her little black dress was free of lint, her lipstick was perfect, and her hair… it would have to do. She grabbed her purse, reached for the door, and...

“…Bucky?” she asked the large bouquet of yellow and orange tulips.

“That’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Darcy.”

Darcy’s eyes drifted from the flowers up to the mouth that spoke, situated on a ridiculously square jaw dusted with stubble, and then up to a pair of blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. She was going to kill Natasha. Attractive, she’d said. Attractive?! In the words of Louise Belcher,  _ “He’s the reason faces were invented, you idiot!” _

“Hi… um, wow,” she stammered eloquently as she reached for the bouquet.

“I know it’s a bit old fashioned, and I’m sorry if you don’t have a vase handy, but I spotted them in the window of a florist on the way over and I couldn’t help myself. Natasha said your favourite colour was yellow…” he added bashfully.

“She did?” Darcy asked, maybe possibly deliberately looking up through her lashes in what she hoped was a coquettish gesture.

“Uh, yeah,” he blushed, rubbing his neck. “She made sure I had the ‘mission particulars’. She didn’t want me screwing up, or maybe she just wanted to make sure you had a good time. Either way you are clearly one of her favourite people. Which is probably all the incentive I need to be on my best behaviour tonight,” he chuckled.

“She is kind of terrifying,” Darcy agreed. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. I’ll just put them in water and we can head out.”

She moved as quickly as she could in her peep toe heels and was back before Bucky had too long to inspect her not-as-clean-as-it-could-be apartment.

“Shall we,” he smiled, offering Darcy his arm.

Darcy would maintain to her dying day that she did not giggle like a teenager with her first crush, nor did she swoon. She was, she would have you know, the picture of grace and composure… until he opened his car door for her. She would admit to allowing herself a tiny freak out in the time it took Bucky to walk around to his side of the car.

They made small talk on the short drive to the restaurant, mainly concerned with how Bucky was settling in and ragging on Natasha’s matchmaking compulsion.

“I learned a long time ago that Natasha is always right - except when it comes to matchmaking.” Bucky smiled, quickly glancing in Darcy’s direction before returning his full attention to the unfamiliar D.C. traffic. “But here’s hoping there’s a first time for everything.”

Darcy smiled back. “Then we’d have to tell her she was right.” Bucky cringed, his nose crinkling adorably. “But it might be worth it.”

Bucky regarded her with a soft smile as he pulled into a parking spot. “Might be.”

He had gotten reservations at a nice Italian place - lovely atmosphere and a little pricier than average, but not so fancy that Darcy felt self-conscious - and he pulled her chair out for her. 

They ordered drinks and within five minutes Bucky had her laughing over a story about the first time Natasha “saved his ass”. And of course Darcy jinxed herself by thinking that this was going to be her first great first date in years. 

“Shit,” Bucky swore, shrinking in on himself.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He started apologising as he reached for his wallet. “I’m real sorry, Darcy, but I’ve gotta leave.”

“What?” she asked dumbstruck as he threw down more than enough bills to cover their drinks and a tip.

“I can’t stay, and I can’t talk about it here. ...would you come with me?”

She sighed, wary of bullshit, but had to trust Natasha’s instincts about the guy. She called him her friend after all. Darcy grabbed her bag and followed Bucky as he made for the exit in a perfectly casual manner.

“Okay, start explaining,” Darcy demanded once they were around the corner from the restaurant. 

“I’m so sorry, Darcy. I, uh, I can’t go into details, but basically I recognised someone from an old job and I couldn’t risk them seeing me.”

“Shit, you almost got made?” she exclaimed (quietly).

“Yeah,” he grumbled as they stopped next to his car. “If he saw me and talked to anyone… At best it might mean relocating again.”

“And at worst?”

Bucky sighed. “The higher ups might decide that I’m too much of a liability.”

“They’d burn you?!”

“Yeah… but it’s the nature of the business, you know. They can’t afford that kind of exposure.”

“Understandable,” Darcy winced in sympathy. 

“I’m so sorry about ruining our date.”

“What are you talking about?” Darcy asked, flashing him a warm smile. “It’s still early, and I’m starving. 

She directed him to her favourite bar and was happy to see Bucky relax over the span of a few beers and a plate of…

“What the hell is this?”

“Buffalo Chicken Beer Cheese Fondue Fries,” Darcy grinned. “Go on, try them.”

Curiosity got the best of him and he shovelled a forkful into his mouth. He blinked and then groaned appreciatively, which delighted Darcy to no end.

“Good, right?”

“Real good,” he hummed, going for another bite. 

Darcy grabbed a fork and, laughing, started fighting him for the best bits.

“Thank you,” he said when he paused for a drink.

“For what?”

“For not wanting to call it quits after I made us bail on those expensive cocktails. And for bringing me here.”

“You like it, huh? Well, just be warned if things go sour between us, I get this place in the divorce,” she teased.

“Fair enough.” He took another bite and got a faraway look in his eyes. “I missed food like this.”

“Bar food?”

“Fun food,” he amended. “The army was nothing but bland crap and MRE’s, and my work now… it’s mostly ‘fine dining’ stuff, which is...”

“Pretentious for the sake of being pretentious?”

“I was going to say elegant and delicious, but not really homey and filling, but yeah, sometimes,” Bucky conceded with a smile. He gestured at the decimated plate in front of them. “This is being on leave with my buddies and heading to the nearest sports bar to eat our weight in hot wings. This is getting takeout with my sister when our parents were out of town. Fun food. So… thank you,” he smiled bashfully.

Darcy smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

“And then he drove me home and kissed me goodnight on the stoop. Chaste but super sweet,” Darcy swooned as she recounted her date for Natasha while they waited for their mission briefing to start.

“So I take it you’re going to see him again?” Natasha gloated.

“Yes,” Darcy smiled. “He’s flying out later tonight for a short job, but he’s asked me to meet up with his best friend and his girlfriend at a gallery showing on Thursday and then take me to dinner afterwards before he goes on an extended mission. 

“Meeting the best friend already?” Natasha teased, but in the same breath, “If he breaks your heart, I’ll break his neck.”

Darcy grinned. “So I’m the higher ranked friend, huh? Good to know.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Natasha snorted, kicking at Darcy’s chair.

“Too late.”

She would have shoved her back, but Directory Fury walked in and one glare from him had the whole room settling down in a heartbeat.

“Alright, we’ve got intel of a meet going down on the West Coast in a little under 12hrs, with some highly classified documents due to change hands. The seller is just a courier working for a former associate of Aldrich Killian’s. Brunette female, 5’5”. The name we have for her is Martina Davenport. No known allegiances other than the highest bidder. So, we know who’s selling it - we want to know who’s buying it, who thinks they’ve got the resources to work on whatever science fiction nightmare Killian had on the backburner. Romanoff is going to take out the courier at her hotel room and then take her place at the meet. We don’t know if the buyer knows who they’re meeting so take a nano mask.”

Natasha nods.

“Get the documents to Lewis. Lewis, I want you to make a copy with that GPS tracker ink Fitz’s has been working on, and pack any other tech he suggests.”

Darcy makes some notes on her tablet. “What about the data? Am I making an exact copy?”

Fury grimaced. “Unfortunately we don’t know if they’ll be bringing anyone familiar with the science to authenticate the documents, but I don’t want the real data out in the world so we’ll have to risk it. Remove some diagrams, change some numbers around, translate every third page to Aramaic – I don’t care. Just do whatever you have to do to make those documents useless. Romanoff can handle it if they realise we’ve played them.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Once the exchange has been made, we follow them to their boss and arrest them all. Should be a walk in the park. Wheels up in thirty.”

The mission, if you’ll excuse Darcy’s French, was a clusterfuck. 

To start off, the courier was not just a courier but a highly trained Russian operative named Melina Vostokoff, who upon finding Natasha in her hotel room promptly tried to rip the other agent’s throat out. Thankfully, after several terrifying minutes where all Darcy could do was listen to the two women trying to kill each other, Natasha came out victorious. But not before she put Melina’s face through a glass coffee table, rendering it useless for a facial scan. And not before Melina got in a few lucky hits leaving Natasha with a seriously swollen black eye and a fractured wrist, rendering her useless for the handoff part of the mission.

Which is how Darcy found herself wearing the dead operative’s dress - she hadn’t been wearing it when she died, a distinction Darcy tried really hard to remember - teetering towards the restaurant where the meet was to take place in heels one size too big for her.

She slipped into her spysona as she approached the hostess station, doing her damnedest not to look as freaked out as she felt.

“Just breathe,” came Natasha’s voice in her ear. “You’ll be fine.”

She was down the block in a surveillance van monitoring the situation via the restaurant’s spotty security feed, which made Darcy feel only marginally better. Darcy did as she was told and greeted the maître d' with a cold smile.

“Martina Davenport. My party’s waiting for me.”

“Right this way, Ms Davenport.”

“Well done, milaya.”

Darcy smiled to herself as she was led through the restaurant to a table near the back where a slimy asshole in an expensive suit, bracketed by two heavyset goons, were waiting expectantly.

“Hmm, they look like cartoon mobsters. Not exactly the mad science types,” Natasha mused, saying what Darcy was thinking. 

She was almost at their table, the envelope of classified documents melting in her sweaty palm, when she spotted a familiar face.

“Darcy?”

Natasha swore.

“Bucky?” Darcy replied, and kicked herself for doing so. She risked a glance at her contact and, yep, her cover was blown. He had no actual idea who she was or what was going on, but judging by the way his goons reached for their guns, he didn’t like it. “Shit! Get down!”

Darcy grabbed Bucky by the collar and pulled him behind his table, which she had quickly kicked over to use as a temporary shield.

“Fuck! What the fuck is going?! Bucky demanded over the hail of bullets and screaming diners.

“A mission. What the hell does it look like?” she shouted back as she pulled an ICER out of her purse. “What are you doing here?”

“Working!” he cursed as Darcy took a few shots at their attackers.

“Move to the bar, now!” she ordered as she lay down some cover fire. Bucky pulled her with him as she walked backwards in bare feet and hauled her over the much thicker bar in the centre of the room. Safe for the moment, Darcy took a second to breathe. Natasha informed her that she’d managed to clip goon#1 in the shoulder and he was currently drooling on the floor, but goon#2 was still upright, and still angry judging by the amount of bullets he was putting into the bar. 

“Care to help then?” she snarked at Bucky. “Or were you supposed to take the courier out?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m a food critic! I’m not carrying!”

Darcy checked her magazine and was distraught to find she was down to her last two cartridges.

“Shit.”

“You sure you got this? Nat never said you were field trained,” Bucky grumbled.

Darcy ignored Natasha’s retort in her earpiece and tried to focus. She may have spent the majority of her intelligence career behind a keyboard, but she had passed her field exams… it’s just that it had been a good long while since she’d been in the shit, and she wasn’t confident she could make her last two shots count with this much adrenaline in her system. Especially since she’d had to ditch her glasses when she got roped into posing as the seller.

There was a pause in the gunfire and Darcy heard Natasha tell her backup was still five minutes away as goon#2 started creeping closer to the bar while reloading his weapon.

Before Darcy could have a complete meltdown Bucky took the gun from her hand and after a quick glance over the bar’s edge he stood up and emptied her clip, effortlessly knocking out goon#2 as well as his boss who had been scurrying around on the floor trying to collect the scattered document pages Darcy had completely forgotten about. 

He handed the weapon back to Darcy as she stood up and surveyed the all but destroyed restaurant, Natasha’s extraction instructions barely audible over her pounding heart. She went to move, but then something Bucky said hit her like the tidal wave of Fury’s inevitable anger.

“…You’re what?!”

Fury levelled Darcy with the most intimidating one-eyed stare in his extensive repertoire. 

“You want to explain to me how you got a civilian involved in a covert op?” 

“To be fair, I didn’t know he was going to be there – hell, I didn’t know  _ I _ was going to be there until 15 minutes beforehand. And – and! – I didn’t know he was a freaking civilian.”

“You didn’t know the man you’ve been dating was a civilian?”

“I may have  _ assumed _ that the man I’ve been on a grand total of one date with worked in an intelligence community adjacent type… job.”

“And what made you assume that?”

“Natasha said he was a friend of hers! And she said he moved back stateside because his cover got blown! And we had to bail on the restaurant he picked out because he didn’t want to risk getting spotted by an old contact. I mean… What the hell else was I supposed to think?”

“That you should maybe have just asked him what he did for a living?”

“Natasha implied that secrecy was important in his line of work – just like it is in mine. I thought I’d met someone I wouldn’t have to lie to,” Darcy grumbled miserably.

The Director sighed and Darcy took it as a sign that he sympathised with her situation, maybe just a little bit. He tapped on the tablet sitting on his desk and reviewed the contents for the third time since the straightforward mission turned into a giant headache.

“Former army sniper Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is not, nor has he even been, an intelligence asset. He did one semester at culinary school before he signed up to the army, thinking when he got out he’d use his GI bill to cover the rest of his education. He was medically discharged after two tours when a stray bullet nearly caused him to lose an arm. As you may imagine he had a few issues readjusting to civilian life. He worked nights at a bakery and for a while that was all he did, but in an effort to get out of the house more, and at the encouragement of his therapist, he started eating out at least once a week and making a blog out of his reviews. The blog got popular and he got noticed by the people behind the Michelin Guide. They invited him to interview to become a restaurant inspector and he’s been travelling the world working for them for the past seven years now.”

“But… What about all that stuff about his cover getting blown?” Darcy wondered aloud.

“The Michelin Guide keeps the identities of their inspectors a secret from the public, and should an inspector become at risk of being ID’d they have to leave the area for ten years. That’s why he had to stop working in New York, and when his identity was discovered by a restaurant he was due to inspect in Romania he preemptively put in a request to be allowed to come back stateside. The reason he asked to leave the restaurant he took you to on your date is because he recognised a waiter from the New York restaurant that blew is his cover last time and didn’t want to risk it happening again.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy muttered to the ceiling. “Can you please just say that you understand how I came to my assumptions? It was a mistake anyone would have made, given the information I had at hand.”

“…I understand,” he said eventually, his laser focused eye daring her to ask him to repeat it. “And – off the record – I’m glad you had him as back up. If you had been on your own we might not be having this conversation,” he added sombrely. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he is still technically a civilian caught in the middle of a clusterfuck of a mission. The mission reports will be analysed, scrutinised, and your every decision will be torn apart by a panel of bureaucrats. It’s going to get ugly, Lewis, and best case scenario they’re probably going to come back and suggest you be taken off all future field assignments,” he warned. “But for now you are officially on administrative leave until this all gets sorted out, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Darcy replied miserably.

“Good. Send Romanoff in on your way out.”

Natasha looked uncharacteristically nervous as she got to her feet. Darcy had barely spoken a word that wasn’t pertinent to the mission report the whole flight back and for once Natasha wasn’t sure what the other woman was going to say.

“Are you okay?”

“Honestly... I kind of want to slap you and say it was all your fault,” Darcy admitted. “But I like my arm attached, and I know I was an idiot for taking what you said about Bucky at face value.”

“You trusted me. I shouldn’t have abused that, even if I had good intentions.”

“And those were?”

“I knew you two would be stupidly cute together,” she smirked.

“Uhuh,” Darcy scoffed. “He probably doesn’t want anything to do with me now.”

“I think you should stop making assumptions.”

“Probably.”

“...Are we good?” Natasha asked, heart on her sleeve.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Darcy promised, going in for a rare non-lethal Black Widow embrace, mindful of the arm Medical had put a cast on. “You better get in there,” she sniffled. “You’re late to getting read the riot act.”

“Can’t have that.”

When Darcy finally made it home, still wearing the frayed cocktail dress that smelt vaguely of spilt champagne and gunpowder, all she wanted was to have a hot shower and get into bed. Those plans were shot down by the former sniper sitting on her stoop.

“They finished with you already?” she asked redundantly, eyeing his clean clothes and still damp hair with envy.

“Uh, yeah… got home about an hour ago,” he replied, getting to his feet, a paper bag of groceries clutched in his hands. “Managed to wheedle a phone call out of them and got in touch with my old CO. Twenty minutes later the guy interrogating me was getting chewed out by a five star general,” he chuckled. “After that they just asked for my version of events and then had me sign a stack of NDA’s before shoving me out the door.”

“Lucky,” she sighed as she unlocked her front door. The groceries in his arms were making her curious, but she was also really, really tired. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured a conversation was overdue, but I didn’t want to do it on an empty stomach.”

“Ok,” she acquiesced, allowing him entry to her still not-as-clean-as-it-could-be apartment. “I need to have a shower, so…”

“It’s alright,” he smirked. “I know my way around a kitchen.”

He was still smirking thirty minutes later as Darcy was hunched over the best steak frites and creamy mustard sauce she’d ever had in her life.

“Shuddup,” she grumbled.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you’re definitely thinking something. I’m not an idiot, alright,” she argued. “Natasha was just really vague on the details and everything added up to me.”

“Added up to what, exactly?”

Darcy shrugged and refused to look at him. “I dunno. Private mercenary, security for extremely wealthy, highly disreputable people, corporate espionage maybe… When I saw you at the restaurant I figured I was wrong and you were some sort of assassin looking to take out my contact.”

Bucky chuckled.

“Shuddup,” she repeated miserably.

“Natasha told me you were in IT.”

Darcy finally looked at him. “What?”

“She said you worked IT for a high profile company and were buried under a stack of NDA’s so I shouldn’t bring up your work. I figured, you knowing Nat, that you were an analyst for some three letter agency.”

“I kind of am.”

“You’re kind of a badass,” Bucky countered with another smirk.

Darcy blushed. “Hardly. We only made it out of there because of you. Did I thank you for that yet?”

Bucky shook his head, smiling around a mouthful of fries.

“Thank you,” she said pointedly. “And thank you for dinner. It’s friggin amazing.”

“You’re very welcome, on both points.”

“We’re you still able to do your review?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, no. I kind of got fired,” Bucky winced.

“What? But it wasn’t your fault! And it’s not like you got outed as an inspector!”

“True, but it’s still pretty much my third strike.”

“Shit. I am so sorry, Bucky,” Darcy winced in sympathy.

Bucky shrugged it off. “It’s ok. I was getting tired of travelling anyway.”

“Well… I’m on administrative leave for the next month, so outside of firing squad meetings I’m free to help you figure out what you want to do next.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “I’d appreciate the help, doll. I’ll even pay you in home cooked meals.”

Darcy lit up as she finished off her delicious dinner. “In that case I’m gonna put in for overtime right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a vague open ending, but yes, they kept dating, and - spoiler alert - Bucky starts up a bar/restaurant similar to the one that was the scene for their second attempt at a first date.
> 
> There was also supposed to be another scene crammed in there of their second date where Darcy meets Steve and her belief that Bucky is a spy is cemented by his friend's worry about him being off "god knows where", and a quick visit to his spartan apartment. But that would have meant rewriting a lot of it, and I'm too lazy. It's been three years already, I just wanted to post it. 
> 
> Thanks for putting up with me :P


End file.
